Just Another
by Hanspam
Summary: We've had Abby's view, now welcome John Carter...
1. Default Chapter

Just Another  
  
Author: Hanspam  
  
Rating: PG  
  
Summary: A standalone, not related to the end of series 8 (ie: Lockdown) It's definitely set before Secrets and Lies, but I'm not quite sure exactly when.  
  
Disclaimer: I own nothing.  
  
Author's Note: I haven't written anything ER style for a while, and I definitely haven't since a certain person convinced me that becoming a Carby would greatly enhance my quality of life. So, where's the husband and the money then, Alex?? :)  
  
******  
  
"2 litres of saline for Curtain 3!"  
  
"Phone call for Dr. Weaver..."  
  
"Is there a Mr. Hernandez here?"  
  
It's a typical Friday night at the ER. Luckily, the gods of scheduling shifts are looking down at me (is that Kerry? I never knew she liked me) and I've just finished my shift.  
  
Twelve hours, that seemed as though they would never end.  
  
I don't even want to count the amount of people I've seen today, because in my current mood it would only make me sad. All the people who have passed through my life, who I know barely anything about. They have lives, and I know nothing about them.  
  
Sure, I know that Molly Wilson likes to rollerskate, and that's how she ended up in my care at 12:30 this afternoon with three chipped teeth and a broken wrist.  
  
But what made her start to rollerskate?  
  
Where was her father when they brought her into County, screaming for her mommy and daddy? Sure, Mrs Wilson turned up almost as soon as her daughter did. But where was Mr Wilson? Was he away on business, was he unable to be reached at work, or were Molly's parents divorced?  
  
Suddenly, I realise I have been standing, staring into the caverns of my locker, for far too long. Looking at my watch, I realise that five minutes of my precious non-work time have already been eaten by my wonderings of what could never be.  
  
What if I knew every single person in the world?  
  
******  
  
I walk along the streets of Chicago in my coat, hat and scarf. Chicago winters are never done by half, oh no. This morning I woke up to find it had snowed for the first time in this New Year, and everything was coated in what looked like icing sugar, except colder and more likely to melt in mild weather.  
  
Although I hate to do it, I light up a cigarette as I navigate the icy paths. Smoking while walking, for some bizarre reason I've never quite figured out, makes me feel as though I'm letting my nicotine addiction shine through, that people will judge me and say, "Look, there goes the nurse. The smoker."  
  
Ridiculous, I know.  
  
The comforting feeling of the cigarette in my hand helps me to think. I decide to take the long way home, despite the below-zero temperature. I don't particularly want to hear another domestic fight when I return home. If I can put it off, I will, even if it means freezing my butt off.  
  
Finally, as my thoughts range from the sublime to the ridiculous, I realise my sudden pathological need to know something about every person in the world.  
  
If I could know every person that walks and breathes on this earth, then it stands to reason that I would finally know something concrete about Carter.  
  
John Carter the third. Is that the third, as in a hereditary name, or the third name the Carter I know has held, because he can't make up his mind about anything?  
  
He told me to break up with Luka because he couldn't be with someone who was with someone else. I did. Then he turns around to say that I still love Luka, and he can't be with me.  
  
Forgive me if I'm overlooking a vital link, but I don't get it. I have never claimed to understand men, but this really takes the biscuit.  
  
And now, to make matters worse, he decides to start dating Dr. Lewis, who just swans back into town after god knows how long away, and takes the man I...  
  
The man I care about.  
  
I still love Luka, that much is true. But I'm not in love with him anymore, if I ever have been. We're friends, nothing more.  
  
And besides, he has Nicole to comfort him. Who exactly do I have?  
  
If Luka has Nicole, and Carter has Susan, then where does that leave me? I thought I was supposed to be the centre of this love triangle, but now I've dropped out of the equilateral altogether.  
  
Then again, I was never quite clear on how this ended up becoming an issue in the first place. Two guys who both claim to be interested in me, Abigail Lockhart?  
  
I am so sure.  
  
******  
  
It dawns on me an hour later that this is the fifth time I've walked down the same street, and lingering diners are starting to look at me strangely. I guess they either think I'm crazy, or that I've been stood up.  
  
In a way, they're both right.  
  
There's an AA meeting in an hour, and it wouldn't take me 60 minutes to walk there. Even though it would be warm, with coffee and maybe a cute guy to take my mind off problems that have occupied it all day, it's not the right time. I have a sudden urge to sit in front of my tiny television and watch mindless programming until I fall asleep. Survivor would probably be on at this time of night...  
  
******  
  
They've started again.  
  
I should have known the half an hour of peace from the next apartment was too good to last.  
  
Through the too-thin walls, I can hear insults being passed between them like trading cards.  
  
"I can't believe that you left the front door open! Anyone could have walked right in and stolen everything we own!"  
  
"You were only gone for five minutes to get fried chicken. I had to leave the door open in case you locked yourself out. How many times have you done that in the last month alone?"  
  
And so on, and so on.  
  
It's almost more interesting than the current viewing choice. An 'America's Scariest Car Chases!' special, where presumably they're even scarier, Temptation Island, where even I draw the line, and more of the same.  
  
The easiest thing to do is switch off the television and try to sleep. I have to be back at work in nine hours, and I'm always cranky when I don't get at least seven hours.  
  
The television blinks into subdued darkness at the press of a button, and I slowly stand up from the sofa. Although I haven't sat down for more than an hour, my bones creak as I move, and it belatedly reaches my mind that I'm seriously exhausted. Not to mention the cold, which seems to have sunk into my very bones and formed icicles within my bone marrow.  
  
I change into pj's, and for good measure, pull on an old sweater on top. Nothing can make my inner temperature climb more than stifling layers of clothing, although it's normally more effective when the apartment block's heating is running on more than half power.  
  
A quick brush of the teeth and pouring of a glass of water later, and I'm standing by my bed, waiting to jump in and cover the duvets around me.  
  
So I do.  
  
******  
  
Two hours later, I'm still awake, staring at the ceiling in my bedroom as though it's the most interesting thing I have come across in my entire life.  
  
The exhaustion I felt before hasn't gone away, though luckily Joyce and Brandon have quietened down. I guess even wife-abusers have to sleep eventually.  
  
My mind refuses to let me sleep.  
  
Do I hold a dormant disease inside of me?  
  
Will it wake up unexpectedly, most likely when I'm at work, and show people that I'm no different despite my assurances, I really am as crazy as my mother?  
  
Did I know what I was talking about when I said earlier that I'm not in love with Luka? He could provide for me, could build me a life that I've been secretly hoping for all my life, the type that I could never hold with Richard.  
  
But is he the husband I envisage in this dream?  
  
Carter could provide for me just as well as Luka, even more so if you took into consideration the sheer amount of money the guy must have.  
  
But according to what I've heard, Carter's dated more than his fair share of co-workers during his time at County. And Luka has, as far as I know anyway, only had two serious relationships, with Danjela, and with me.  
  
Both are attractive, good doctors with excellent prospects....  
  
As this comparing finally makes my mind join my body in weariness, a thought glides across my mind like a fish swimming through the deep seas.  
  
It doesn't really matter which one I choose, which one would be better for me, anyway.  
  
Because at the moment, it doesn't look as though either of them need me anymore.  
  
And that thought really makes me want a drink....  
  
Just another day in my world. ******  
  
A/N: Although I said this was a standalone, I'm not averse to writing a companion piece if people want. Let me know please, and R&R! 


	2. A Little Crisis of Self Confidence

Just Another  
  
Chapter 2: A Little Crisis of Self-Confidence  
  
Author: Hanspam  
  
A/N: I said I might do a companion piece, and I guess the time is right. A rainy Sunday afternoon when I'm meant to be revising for a Law exam tomorrow. Can anyone think of a more perfect time to write? This second chapter will be written from Carter's viewpoint, and the timescale is the same as with the first.  
  
  
  
I don't think working in this ER will ever become any easier.  
  
Sure, I've been here for almost eight years now. Made my way up the hierarchy of the medical profession, as they say. I'm sure I ought to have gained more experience than I have by now.  
  
Maybe I have, but I just haven't learnt from it. Because time and time again, I find myself making the same mistakes. I didn't think that was supposed to happen.  
  
Patients die. I was their doctor, their caregiver.  
  
I was the one who their relatives and friends trusted to make better, and I fail. Not every time, a good proportion of my patients walk out of the ER, out of the hospital smiling and thanking me for how I treated them.  
  
But although I try, I can't escape the thoughts of those who don't make it.  
  
I've tried to get other people's perceptions on this. I'm not stupid, I realise that other people have insecurities and I'm not the only person on this earth - hell, in the ER - who has gone through a little crisis of selfconfidence once in a while.  
  
Mark Greene tried to make his feelings clear on the subject. Basically he said to stop sweating it, that sometimes people can't be saved. Whether he was talking about the influx of patients that visit us daily, or me and my endless thinking, I don't know. A piece of wisdom, nevertheless.  
  
Susan laughed at me for a while. Should have expected that, I guess, she's been a little more light-hearted since she came back from Arizona. Not that I'm ungrateful, since the old Susan would never have gone out with me. But she has a new habit of not taking problems that I find awkward, seriously. After the laughter, which went on for at least an hour, or maybe two minutes, she saw my expression. I guess I must have looked a little peturbed, since she tried to console me.  
  
"You're a fantastic doctor, John. Would you still be in the ER if you weren't?"  
  
Good point, although Malucci survived for two years before being found out as an incompetent impostor of a human being and thrown onto the streets.  
  
Peter's gone, and I don't want to disturb his new life. I got the point when he left, I've got to come to terms with the reality that this is my life.  
  
My life.  
  
Not anyone else's, mine. What I do with it is my business, and it reflects on me.  
  
I could have asked any multitude of employees at County. I'm well-liked, at least I think I am. But rumours would spread, and I don't want to feel any more insecure than I already do. Believe me, I do a good job of beating myself up already. I don't need any help from the gossip mill.  
  
I would have asked Abby, but the way she's been acting lately, she'd be more harm than good. I have a feeling our conversation would go something like this:  
  
Me: Abby, do you think I'm a bad doctor?  
  
Her: Of course not. You've grown up with millions in the bank, can have any woman in this hospital you want, and walked into the chief resident position without any effort at all. With credentials like that, how on earth could you fail?  
  
If you take the first three words of that conversation, I could turn it into something I may possibly want to hear. The following monologue, however, I would rather not subject myself to.  
  
She really has been that bad over the last couple days, weeks even. It's hard to talk to her without receiving either a grunt or a snap in reply. I tried to ask her what was wrong, tried to see if it was her mother or money problems or whatever, but she shot me down, and told me to go play in my pool full of money with 'the new hot blonde doctor'.  
  
That put me in my place.  
  
When I was near the nurses station the other day, I heard something about bothersome neighbours, and I think it was Abby who spoke.  
  
Hell, I know it was Abby who spoke. I could recognise her voice anywhere.  
  
Anyway, a lot of noise was mentioned. Sounds as though she's not been getting a lot of sleep, and her behaviour at work definitely backs up my theory.   
  
It's amazing what profound thoughts you can have during a mere fifteen minute break. The insecurities and... other thoughts, have to be pushed out of my mind now my break is over. Even I know it's good to have a time to purge your emotions now and again, but not when there are patients to treat, and the woman you want to see starts her shift in ten minutes.  
  
*****  
  
Uh-oh. Sometime between when I went into the staffroom and when I wandered out of it, Weaver went on the attack. No-one's said anything, but I can tell from the defeated expressions and the solemn workforce that nurses and doctors alike have received a severe talking-to.  
  
Someone bumps into me, and I turn to see Abby walking alongside me, already carrying a bunch of charts and a harassed expression.  
  
"Whar are you doing here? I thought your shift didn't start til eleven," I ask her, trying as best as I can to sound as though I couldn't care less. I'm just John Carter, aloof boy. Man.  
  
"Came in early. Just in time to witness Weaver on the warpath, which you conveniently managed to miss," she says, with just the slightest trace of malice. I have no idea why the malice is there, but it is, and I suppose I must have done something to deserve it.  
  
"Hey, I've seen her pissed off many more times than you have," hoping that the hint of a smile on my face will relax her, take away the hostility that seems to be destined for me.  
  
Finally, a smile, the first one I've seen since... I don't remember when.  
  
"I'll believe it when I see it. Bet you've never seen her pissed off at a vending machine that won't give her the packet of Cheetos she so desperately wants, and manages to turn it into a diatribe on the incompetence of the entire staff of this hospital, not just the maintenance man."  
  
I can picture Kerry Weaver doing that so clearly. It sounds exactly like her. But whilst listening to Abby's description, I've walked too far, and will have to walk back to my destination, Curtain 3.  
  
"Listen, I'm going to have to go, you know, the patients." You know, the patients? Nice going, John. Is that what you do, treat patients? I thought you sold peanuts. "But we haven't talked for ages. I've missed this-"  
  
I was about to say we should meet at Doc's, maybe get something to eat next time we're on the same shift, but her expression darkens when I mention the length of time it's been since we've really talked, and I find myself being interrupted.  
  
"Well, I've been here, Carter. Don't blame me for your inability to seek help from someone other than Dr. Lewis."  
  
She disappears round the corner, and I know better than to follow her. And before you can say speak of the devil,  
  
"John? Curtain 3 needs a glucose test, Mr. de Silva's been waiting for over an hour."  
  
Susan appears from nowhere, and god knows how she appears to understand the needs of my patients better than I do.   
  
Oh, I forgot - I'm a bad doctor with issues.   
  
"I'm on my way," I say, more curtly than she deserves, and turn around to walk back the way I came. I underestimate my companion though, and she keeps pace with me, talking all the way.  
  
"Was that Abby I saw you with? She's not even supposed to be in yet... I've tried to talk to her, even I can see she's run down, but I guess she can't accept help from me. I don't know what I've done, but it sometimes seems as though she takes everything I say personally.... John? Is there something wrong?"  
  
I stop outside my destination, realizing that my expression must have given away more than I intended. "I'm fine. Glucose tests, rundown nurses, everything's going like clockwork."  
  
And leaving a bewildered Susan staring after me, I assume my doctorly pose, and sweep into Curtain Three, saying jovially to Mario de Silva, "Hanging in there, Mr De Silva? Just your glucose test to check your sugar levels, and then you'll be free to go back home."  
  
*****  
  
I hate thinking at work. It's almost never productive.  
  
Take today; I alienated two people who I care about, and compromised the care of a patient because I was too busy fretting about my troubles.  
  
There are people out there who have it so much harder than I do, yet they don't complain. They take what was given to them in life and turn it around. They become happy with their lot in life.  
  
I can't say that I have ever suffered true hardship. I've suffered emotional pain, but I have never known the fear of wondering where my next meal is coming from.   
  
I have a good house, a family who pull together when they are desperately needed (I may be feeling generous, but even I know my parents are not the best), and a good job.  
  
I am good at what I do.  
  
I have a girlfriend, if you can call Susan a girlfriend. I'm not sure what we are to each other, but I know that I am glad to have her in my life again.  
  
I have friends in my workplace, and I appreciate their presence.  
  
See? No need to complain. I'm fine.   
  
The fact that I'm worrying about anything and everything these days is merely the effect of stress. A few weeks off work should rejuvenate me; because if they don't, I'll end up like Abby is at the moment. Tired, worried, and snappish.  
  
Abby...  
  
Maybe my time away from her will give me some perspective on where we stand these days. I know I've confused her, I've confused myself as well. Time off work, maybe away from Chicago.  
  
I'm sure that's all I need...  
  
  
*****  
  
A/N: I might make this into a series so we can see what happens after Carter goes away. We'll see.... 


End file.
